Thursday, November 26, 2015

Alan Moore's final work for DC was the 1988 landmark, The Killing Joke, a one-shot magnificently
illustrated by Brian Bolland that redefined Batman and the Joker and the
relationship between them. Cutting between flashbacks and narration in the
present day, TKJ offered a possible backstory for the Joker, and showed one
fateful encounter between the caped crusader and his archenemy, which left
Barbara Gordon disabled for over two decades of DC comics.

The Joker's Plan

The major action of TKJ showed a plan by the Joker that
targeted Jim and Barbara Gordon with acts of exceptional cruelty and violence in
order "to prove a point." Apparently, he was able to carry out every
step that he had planned. After enticing another man to pose as him in Arkham
Asylum in order to delay notice of his escape, the Joker agrees to buy a
closed-down carnival, but he murders the sales agent, then begins to adapt the
location for a single night of terrorizing Jim Gordon.

Shortly thereafter, bizarrely dressed in a tropical shirt,
he arrives at the home of Jim and Barbara Gordon. Without saying a word, he
fires a gunshot into Barbara's midsection, crippling her. Then, while his thugs
incapacitate Jim, the Joker comments that Jim is "topping the bill."
He strips Barbara and takes photos of her naked, injured body.

When Jim Gordon awakens, he is tormented by dwarfs
grotesquely clad in sadomasochistic leather. They strip him of his clothes and bring
him to the Joker, who begins to assault him verbally, and sings him a song about
the virtues of insanity. Then, Jim is taken on a ghost train ride and shown
gigantic photographic enlargements of the nude photos that the Joker took of
his bloody daughter. When the ride is over, the Joker once more explains to
Jim, with mock compassion while an audience of "circus freaks"
laughs, about the good sense of losing one's mind.

At this point, Batman arrives, deliberately tipped off to
the location by tickets the Joker sent to the Gotham police. A short chase
through the carnival grounds allows the Joker to make his pro-insanity lecture
to Batman. The chase eventually turns into a fight, with the Joker injuring the
caped hero lightly before Batman inevitably brings him down. Along the way,
Batman escapes a couple of attempts on his life, and it is not clear if the
Joker expected those to succeed, or if they were mere gestures to express his
hatred. When the Joker is completely beaten, he says, in self-pity, that Batman
should "kick the hell out of [him] and get a standing ovation from the
public gallery."

Batman's Pitch

The timing of the Joker's plan coincides exactly with
Batman's desire to make an overture to his enemy, that they should put aside
their conflict. Batman first begins to make this pitch to the man who was
posing as the Joker. It is repeated in silent captions when Batman begins to
fight the Joker. Then, when the fight is over, the Batman lays it all out
again: He doesn't want to hurt the Joker, and that if they don't stop their
conflict, one or both of them will end up dying. He offers to help and
rehabilitate the Joker. The Joker seems to consider it, but answers, "No.
I'm sorry but… No. It's too late for that. Far too late." Despite the
rejection, the Joker tells Batman a joke, and they appear to communicate calmly
and genuinely once the fight is over, but it is clear that their battle will
resume when next the Joker is once again free.

The Joker's Origin

Usually, recurring heroes and villains in comics are given a
distinct origin and real name. Occasionally, there is no origin out of apparent
indifference on the part of the creators. The Joker, however, is one of a
select few for which an origin has been intentionally vague, to preserve a
sense of mystery around the character. In 1987's Secret Origins #10, Alan Moore provided one of four possible
origins for the Phantom Stranger. In The
Killing Joke, Moore provides one for the Joker.

An earlier semi-origin the Joker had been offered in 1951's Detective Comics #168. That story indicated
that the Joker had originally carried out crimes as the Red Hood, who wore a
helmet and matching cape. His initial interaction with Batman ended with a swim
through chemicals that transformed his hair to green and skin to clown white.
Maintaining the character's mysterious background, that story never offered his
real name nor showed his pre-accident face.

In an extended flashback divided into four parts, TKJ affirms
the basic details of the 1951 story, but added more detail to the character's
backstory, indicating that the man about to become the Joker was a failed
comedian and only reluctantly a criminal, who lost his pregnant wife and unborn
child on the same day that his botched robbery and run-in with Batman changed
his pigmentation. TKJ breaks from the 1951 story in adding a significant
emotional element to the Joker's transformation, indicating that the trauma of
that one bad day instantly changed him from a not-particularly-bad man into a
devoted criminal, whereas the earlier story implied that the one bad day only
altered his appearance.

Moore only offers these details tentatively, however. In one
panel injecting ambiguity into the flashback, the present-day Joker says,
"Something like that happened to me, you know. I… I'm not exactly sure
what is was. Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another… If I'm going
to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!" Thus, Moore makes the
Joker's backstory, like that of the Phantom Stranger, one that we have possibly but not certainly seen.

Theme: One Bad Day

An essential idea in TKJ is that
trauma can remake a man from something ordinary into something remarkable. The
Joker analyzes his own past in this way, and the flashback implies that the
pre-Joker individual was driven to crime only out of extreme financial need and
an honorable desire to support his pregnant wife and soon-to-be family. As soon
as he learns of his wife's tragic death, he tries to back out of his agreement
to participate in a robbery, but he is forced to comply by his partners. The
day is marked not only by extreme misfortune but also by futility, as he is
unable to make his own decisions, being threatened into crime by the Red Hood
Gang – of which he is a stooge, not the leader – and then being cornered by the
relentless police and Batman. Faced with the futility of being good – and sane
– the Joker snaps and becomes a devotedly insane criminal as we see him in the
present.

This aspect of the origin is owed
crucially to one earlier story: Batman's origin as first presented in Detective #33. That first telling of
Batman's origin connects the "terror and shock" of witnessing his
parents' murders as the single motivation for his life as a crime-fighter. The
vow he makes on that occasion is called "curious and strange" by
Finger and Kane. The details have been affirmed and extended numerous times in
successive stories, but the essential idea is that trauma fundamentally
transformed the normal boy into something extraordinary.

There's little in DC mythology
that's firmer than the concept of Bruce Wayne deciding to become a
crime-fighter because of his parents' murders. As such, it is natural for Moore
to take the same idea and reflect it through a mirror, and make a similar
moment the origin of the Joker.

However, TKJ does not affirm that
simple psychological model of trauma. The Joker carries out his plan for the
express purpose of transforming Jim Gordon, to make him insane, but, while the
Joker is able to carry out every step in his plan, Gordon does not change as
the Joker hopes. When Batman rescues Jim Gordon, Gordon tells him, "I want
him brought in… and I want him brought in by the book!… We have to show him
that our way works!" This fact, which Gordon and Batman rub into the
Joker's face, shows that the Joker was wrong, that One Bad Day does not drive
everyone mad, and as Batman adds, "Maybe it was just you, all the
time."

This is a neat contrast insofar as
the Joker and Jim Gordon go, but what of the third side of the triangle? The
Joker guesses that One Bad Day is what made Batman what he is, and in this, he
is correct. But, as part of his perception of the situation, he sees Batman as
confirmation of his theory, that One Bad Day turned him into someone who would
"dress up like a flying rat," which is "crazy," as is
"everybody else." If this is wrong, then it was unnecessary for
Gordon to be put to the test; Batman already shows that One Bad Day does not
drive someone crazy.

Indeed, various creators over the
years have suggested that Batman is crazy; TKJ neither confirms nor rejects the
idea, but it agrees, as all Batman stories do, that the traumatic event was
transformative, and suggests that Batman's life itself is not enough to reject
the idea that One Bad Day makes a normal person "crazy."

Mutual Assured Destruction

Batman's description of his ongoing
war with the Joker closely parallels the idea of Mutual Assured Destruction
(MAD). As applied to the Cold War, when the United States and Soviet Union both
possessed massive nuclear arsenals, the idea was that a war between the two
would inevitably lead to the destruction of both of them. Therefore, any war
between them was unwinnable and therefore unthinkable.

War is obviously on Moore's mind
in TKJ, as voiced by the Joker. He explicitly uses the phrase "World War
Three" as he describes how close the world is to accidental nuclear war.
One panel later, he (with considerable oversimplification) suggests that "the
last World War" (WW2) was triggered by an argument over telegraph poles. TKJ
describes the Batman-Joker war in terms that are parallel to the Cold War
conflict between the US and USSR.

When TKJ begins, the Batman-Joker
war has been in progress for years, but Batman sees death as an inevitable
outcome. And, while he rejects the suicidal nature of it, the Joker accepts it.
As such, the dynamic in TKJ is similar to the Cold War's nuclear arms race. In Watchmen, Moore, through Ozymandius,
also expresses that nuclear war is inevitable unless something exceptional
takes place to prevent it. In TKJ, Moore scripts the Joker's position as
similar to that of the U.S. and Soviet Union, while Batman's choice is
something sane that the West (and Eastern Bloc) should adopt. In another
possible comment on nuclear war, the Joker says, "That's how far the world
is from where I am. Just one bad day." A nuclear war would be to the world
what the Joker is to a healthy, ordinary mind.

But, as in his Twilight of the Superheroes proposal, Moore also finds fault with
society as a whole. He believed that society as a whole was at risk of
disintegration, and the Joker in TKJ voices similar concern, that the average
man has a "deformed set of values" who survives "not very
well" in "today's harsh and irrational world."

As prophecy, Moore's work has, fortunately, not played out
in the 27 years since it was printed. Total societal disintegration
has yet come to pass.

Style

The artwork, by Brian Bolland, is exceptionally vivid, with the
use of photorealistic proportions in most cases highlighting exceptions such as
the proportion of the Joker and his circus freak sidekicks. Another exception
is when Bolland copies panels from older works, such as file photos of the
Joker, Batman from the cover of Detective
#27, the Batman family including the Kathy Kane Batwoman, and an implausibly
old-fashioned Batmobile. The technique of including older-style artwork within
a story has been used many times since TKJ, and it powerfully contrasts the
style of those more innocent times with the especially brutal content of TKJ.

Moore makes use of the medium in unusual and
attention-getting ways. The story begins and ends with long stretches without
dialogue, with the title pages' artwork blending seamlessly into the story. In
the beginning, as in the end, we see the concentric circles made by raindrops
as a pattern in puddles. This suggests cycles and repetition and the fact that
the struggle between Batman and the Joker, and all superhero comics, goes on in
a repeated pattern forever. The scene between Batman and the solotaire-playing
(fake) Joker is iconic and was repeated by Grant Morrison in DC Universe #0's lead-in to Batman, R.I.P.

Dialogue and captions are repeated, overlie superficially
unrelated art, and make sly comments at the transitions between scenes. The
first line of the joke that Joker tells at the end are used, out of place, as
the story's first words: There were these two guys in a lunatic asylum. In
fact, Batman and the (fake) Joker are the two guys in a lunatic asylum, and the
joke at the end provides commentary on them. The re-use of the line also
reinforces the pattern of a cycle, and the fact that Batman and the Joker
cannot break out of their endless war. Later in that scene, Batman says that he
doesn't want Joker's death on his hands as the makeup of the fake Joker comes
off and smears his gloves. When Jim Gordon warns Batman not to harm a hair on
the man's head, Batman offers Gordon the fake Joker's wig. When the real Joker,
at the carnival, says that money isn't a problem "these days," we see
the first cut to his earlier days, when poverty was a great problem. When that
scene ends with the pre-Joker seeing his face reflected in a metal cabinet door,
the narration cuts back to the present-day Joker seeing his face reflected in
the glass of a "LAUGHING CLOWN" machine, but the Joker isn't
laughing. When Joker kills the sales agent, his dialogue is overflowing with
double meanings, seemingly speaking cheerfully while referring, repeatedly, to
the man's death. The man's death grin ends one scene as the joker card that
Batman took from Arkham opens the next one. Later, after shooting Barbara, the
Joker refers to her, a librarian, as though she were a book, including
"There's a hole in the jacket and the spine appears to be damaged." The
Joker ends the scene holding a drink in one hand as he touches Barbara, and
then the narration cuts to the proto-Joker holding a drink in one hand as he
picks up a shrimp. The technique is used, scene after scene, throughout TKJ as
it was in Watchmen and other Moore
works.

Moore, a horror writer in his work on Swamp Thing, uses particularly sharp moments in the wording and
actions to build up the Joker as something otherworldly. When Batman accosts
the man who helped him escape from Arkham, he asks, "Do you realize what
you've set free?" with not a "who" but a "what." The
Joker strips both Barbara and then Jim Gordon naked, an indignity one wouldn't
find in earlier superhero comics, with an added note of perversion when he
forces Jim to see pictures of his naked (and crippled) daughter. Later, Barbara
shares her horror with us when she tells Batman, "He's taking it to the
limit this time. You didn't see. You
didn't see his eyes." The proto-Joker's
shock when he learns of his wife's death and again when he is forced into
joining the robbery are exceptionally tragic alone and more so in juxtaposition.
When his grief is the greatest, two leering figures, one of them probably a
prostitute, lean in and seem to laugh at his misfortune. Elsewhere in that
scene, we see a man passed out in his own vomit. The cover itself is shocking,
with the Joker's seemingly harmless "Smile" as he points a camera
towards us is galling when one considers how he used a camera in the story. Moore
doesn't just break the rules of family comic books; he shatters them. While the
Joker and the Gordons are traumatized by their experiences, the reader – at
least in the late Eighties – was shocked by the innovative levels of horror in
the content. And, given the themes of the story, this is not gratuitous; it
illustrates the points effectively.

Did Batman Kill the
Joker?

In August 2013, Grant Morrison, in an interview with Kevin
Smith, says that in his interpretation, Batman kills the Joker at the end of
TKJ. As he explains, Batman reaches out and places his hands on the Joker, then
the laughter stops, then the light goes out, and this "in such a way that
it’s ambiguous" indicates that Batman has killed the Joker.

It's certainly no better than ambiguous: There is no real
evidence that Batman has killed the Joker, and certainly readers do not
typically read the story concluding that he did, or else Morrison's supposition
would not have made such a splash online.

I strongly disagree. Laughter ends in that scene because
laughter always ends. The siren ends and the light goes out because police turn
off their sirens and their headlights. The jumps from one panel to the next do
not have a specific timeframe associated with them, and we see simply nothing
of any attack by Batman on the Joker.

Even more important: Batman has just said that he will not
beat the hell out of the Joker because he is (as requested by Jim Gordon) doing
this one by the book. Batman is asked to do it by the book, he says that he is
doing it by the book, and we don't see anything to indicate that he's not doing
it by the book.

References online to the original script seem to confirm
that the story does not end with the Joker's death. The description of the
ending is, "[Batman] and The Joker are going to kill each other one day.
It’s preordained. They may as well enjoy this one rare moment of contact while
it lasts." But I don't think this evidence was even needed.

Morrison used the carnival grounds from TKJ in his run on Batman and Robin. He obviously respects the work greatly. But this particular theory seems to me to be difficult to defend.

Impact

Though not a perfect story, TKJ is nonetheless one of the
most memorable Batman stories – and certainly one of the most memorable Joker
stories. It is flawed: The point that the Joker is trying to make and the way
it is refuted are both fairly slapdash. The comics make much of One Bad Day
creating a hero or villain, and neither the Joker's thesis that it always creates
a villain nor the case of Jim Gordon in refuting that thesis are very
compelling. As Alan Moore himself says, "Brian did a wonderful job on the
art but I don’t think it’s a very good book. It’s not saying anything very
interesting." He furthermore said, "Batman and the Joker are not
really symbols of anything that are real, in the real world, they're just two
comic book characters."

That last comment is particularly interesting. The Cold War
parallels might permit the claim that TKJ is
saying something interesting and that Batman and the Joker in TKJ are symbols of something real. This
leaves us to conclude either that the Cold War parallels are unintended, or
that Moore considers any such parallel relatively inconsequential.

This suggests that the Cold War overtones that I saw in TKJ
from my first reading is, like the Batman-killing-Joker ending that Morrison
saw in it, more in the eye of the reader than the writer. And perhaps that is a
benefit of the doubt that readers extend to an accomplished writer and a work
that is of overall high quality; Moore's reputation makes readers look for
hidden levels that may not have been intended. It's perhaps timely to post this
retro review right after the one for Kingdom Come, as both are highly regarded for their excellent art and powerful
overtones, but neither has a deep message to make them truly great, though they
easily fool us into feeling that they do.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

From the first pages – even from the cover – Kingdom Come made DC readers feel as
though they had entered another world, the world where their comic book heroes
are real. Alex Ross' art, which is painted rather than drawn, is as unlike the
halftone color printing of the past as reality is unlike a dream. With respect
to the visuals alone, Kingdom Come,
like Ross' Marvels before it, is
categorically transcendent, and automatically a classic.

The story itself, by Ross and Mark Waid, aspires towards
greatness. Its scope is grand, the passions run hot, the new characters are
wonderfully creative, and the world of Kingdom
Come is more complex than most of what had come before it.

This starting point for the story closely resembles the
premises of a trio of stories from the previous decade – The Dark Knight Returns, Watchmen,
and the unpublished Twilight of the
Superheroes. With those stories in mind, many have observed that Kingdom Come is not entirely original,
and that is hard to deny. Nor do the creators try to deny it – a copy of the
book-within-a-book Under the Hood by Watchmen's Hollis Mason appears on Kingdom Come's eighth page, and we soon
learn that KC's Batman has become the
field general commanding an army of younger crime-fighters much as he was at
the end of DKR. Kingdom Come acknowledged those creative debts, but it makes them
its starting point, not its conclusion. It may more closely resemble TOTS, though those commonalities go only
so far.

Though it opens with minor and almost pointedly mortal
characters (Norman McCay, an old man, and Wesley Dodds, the now-dying Golden
Age Sandman), it soon comes alive with colorful – and frequently wonderfully
original – super beings. The realistic art drives home a dark theme, that the
brief era of superheroes such as we have known, eventually gave way to a kind
of super-chaos as a tiny oligarchy of super-powered beings turn the whole world
into a mere arena for their non-stop brawling. There are no longer heroes or
villains, justice or injustice – there are simply battles unleashing tremendous
forces, and the non-super-powered majority cower and can only hope to avoid
becoming collateral damage.

KC, like DKR, adopts the opening gambit of
Homer's Iliad – a great hero is
physically able, but unwilling to fight, until something goads him back into
the battle. KC's Superman has, in the
story's past, lost a non-physical showdown with a violent superhero named
Magog. In a tragic turn of events, the Joker has killed Lois Lane. Magog
executes the Joker on the street, violating the moral code the superheroes had
previously respected. But here, justice and the law became tangled, with
Superman expecting a court to convict Magog for this act of vengeance, but
neither of them feeling completely vindicated when it did not. Superman
retreated entirely from the world, and Magog became just one representative of
a new era, one in which heroes were not quite heroes anymore. A few years later,
as the story opens, things are pretty rotten, but they soon become much worse.
A handful of heroes pursue the Parasite from St. Louis westward across Kansas,
and when the villain is cornered, he panics and rips open Captain Atom. The
resulting explosion kills one million people, including Superman's adopted
hometown of Smallville. When Wonder Woman brings the news of this to Superman,
he returns from his self-imposed exile to try to set the world straight.

At this point, the major players and their positions are as
follows:

• A new breed of reckless hero – exemplified by Magog, Von
Bach, and 666 – operates outside the law. They execute supervillains
preemptively, and risk civilian lives needlessly in their battles. Their
lifestyle is not as squeaky-clean as the heroes of the past.

• Superman and his Justice League want to corral the
reckless heroes, and are willing to imprison those who don't fall in line.

• Batman and an urban league including Green Arrow, Black
Canary, and Blue Beetle keep order in Gotham, Star City and elsewhere using
their expertise and a squadron of younger enforcers.

• Luthor and several former supervillains, whose Mankind
Liberation Front conspires to turn the conflict between the erstwhile superheroes
into a battle that rids the world of superbeings for once and for all. Batman
and his allies seem to throw in with Luthor, but that is a ruse.

• The world's civilian authorities, led by a UN Secretary
General named Wyrmwood, another reference to Revelation.

Unlike the comics of the past, the sides do not merely
engage in super-powered battle, although there is plenty of that. They take
time out from the usual superhero-vs-supervillain kinetic activity to
philosophize, negotiate, argue, and deceive.

And it is on this deeper level that the script falters,
badly. Every panel and every speech balloon in Kingdom Come seems to come from a passionate and wonderfully
scripted epic, but Kingdom Come is
not wonderfully scripted. Ross and Waid's writing aspires to greatness but fails
to grasp it. A large fraction of Kingdom
Come is devoted to talk and arguments, but the arguments do not make sense,
or they are exceedingly shallow, or the characters talk past one another. On
several occasions, they argue passionately for a viewpoint, are willing to go
to battle over it, then suddenly appear to be arguing for or acting for the
other side of the argument. When these changes take place, there is never a
reason given as to why the hero changed their mind, nor do the other characters
seem to notice the discrepancies. Perhaps this because Waid and Ross didn't
notice them, either.

• Batman calls Superman's efforts "totalitarian"
while running Gotham and other cities as a police state run by fear.

• After Batman's ruse to double cross Luthor is completed,
he once again tells Superman that he is not on Superman's side. A few minutes later, he shows up thousands of miles away with his allies to fight on Superman's side.

• At the end, Batman looks on smiling when Superman finally
agrees to operate with the cooperation of civilian authorities, but Batman and
his allies have spent years running law enforcement in several cities "our
way… ourselves."

• Superman and his allies call the prison they build a
"gulag" – a perjorative term completely opposite in connotation from
the noble intentions they have for it.

• Superman and his allies say that the new, reckless breed
of heroes risk innocent lives, but Superman places his prisoners in the middle
of the country, which – he admits – is a safety risk. He says that
this was necessary so the reckless heroes could be monitored and taught, which
does not justify why someone who could effortlessly bury Brainiac's parts on Saturn would
collect the world's most dangerous superbeings in one location in the middle of
the United States.

• Wonder Woman joins Superman's crusade against superheroes
who are too aggressive, too reckless, and willing to kill, and in her efforts
to control them, she is too aggressive, too reckless, and willing to kill. Yet,
she is adamant that they must be stopped.

• In an argument before the final battle, Batman argues that
perhaps it would be for the best if all the superbeings die. Superman
vehemently disagrees. Minutes later, Superman says that perhaps he has no right
to stop the bomb from killing all the heroes, but Batman does everything he can
to stop one of the bombs. The two have exactly switched positions, and nobody
seems to notice.

• When Batman incapacitates a temporarily-powerless Billy
Batson, he does so with his foot alone and does not, for example, tranquilize
him. This mistake risked the fate of the world.

• When Superman incapacitates a temporarily-powerless Billy
Batson, he lets Billy decide whether or not to let him stop the final bomb,
even though Billy had up to that very moment been guided only by the
derangement that Luthor had induced in him. This mistake risked the fate of the
world.

• While Batman and Wonder Woman are fighting on the same
side, he insults her until she stops fighting their common enemy and turns to
fight him. With the fate of the world at stake, they disengage from the battle
to settle an argument of no apparent value.

• Superman spends the entire story trying to educate the
reckless heroes because they needlessly kill villains. After the bomb kills
many superbeings, Superman is on the verge of killing the civilians who dropped
the bomb.

• After the bomb explodes, the Spectre describes the status
as: "There were survivors. They are fewer in number, and their pain is
great… but their war is over." Batman, minutes later, says that there are
"enough [survivors] to leave us with the same problem as before. The same
impasse. The same dangers."

• The problem that the story opened with was that there was
a new breed of reckless superhero. At the end of the story, there are still enough
of them to leave "the same problem as before." How are the problems
solved? Superman tells the civilian authorities his solution, not counting the
description of what it isn't, in only these words: "We're going to solve
them with you… by living among you… We will earn your trust." An unmasked
Batman offers a cockeyed grin of approval; the emptiness of those words is one
of the strongest impressions I take away from Kingdom Come. Superman in no way articulates a solution to the
problem of the reckless heroes. He merely says that the superheroes (who failed
to solve the problem) will solve the problem with the civilian authorities (who
were unable to solve the problem). During an epilogue, Wonder Woman says that
what they went through gave the reckless heroes "plenty of incentive to
learn." Batman, who had argued that Superman's methods were totalitarian,
has the MLF working for him subdued by inhibitor collars.

Upon any but the shallowest scrutiny, Kingdom Come's script is shockingly disappointing. The entire
middle half is devoted to telling us that imposing authority on superbeings by
force is doomed to failure, then the epilogue breezily suggests that now it
will work out fine.

And yet, there are fine moments along the way. Orion, having
overthrown his father Darkseid as the ruler of Apokolips, describes the
difficulties of ruling a former dictatorship in terms that consciously parallel
the then-current situation in the former Eastern Bloc countries, commenting
cogently on instability in Russia and war in the former Yugoslavia. The
political rants of old Ollie Queen are both in-character and easy to imagine
coming from the lips of a real former radical. Snippets of dialogue in several
different languages capably give the story the feel of a real international
drama. The shallow Planet Krypton aptly portrays modern fascination with pop
culture in a world where that pop culture is about real people. And then there
are gems such as the interaction between Ibn al Xu'ffasch and his father, the
Batman:

"And they're prepared to fight tooth and nail with the
generation that sired them?"

"Aren't all young people, son?"

Despite the very serious failures in the script, Kingdom Come is nevertheless a landmark
and a must-read. It looks like an important story, usually feels like an
important story, and as a result, is an important story. A small minority of
readers (some 5%, based on Amazon reviews) focus on the script flaws and find
the work to be outright bad. Most readers consider it an unqualified success. The
truth lies between these: The art is a triumph, and Kingdom Come does enough right to keep readers paying attention from
the start through the last scene – enough right to keep many readers from even
noticing just how much goes wrong in all those speech balloons along the way.

Several works in the second half of the Eighties demonstrated
that superhero comics can potentially be a vehicle for art on the highest level.
The fact that a work so superficially pretty but deeply flawed as Kingdom Come can stand as one of the
genre's landmarks doesn't reject that proposition, but it suggests that the potential
has not been exercised that often.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

As Joe Kelly's JLA ran began in 2002, the team ran into
powerful magic users in separate, seemingly-unrelated incidents. Kyle Rayner
started having nightmares and visions that showed the JLA dying in battle. With
unprecedented planning and foresight, Kelly used his first eight issues to set up
the central storyline of his run, a story called "Obsidian Age" that
took the team through the lowest lows and highest highs they ever faced. At its
darkest point, Superman's skeleton and a mocking note served notice that the
team was dead. The population of Atlantis was enslaved. We see Wally West captive
with his neck broken and legs amputated, and then the whole team dies in
battle. After that happened in the past, a seemingly-undefeatable witch in the
present is about to make the Earth fall into the Sun. It's bad. It's very bad.

This sets up a finale when a staggering number of heroes in
a greatly-expanded roster go on precisely the winning streak that saving the
day requires, everyone playing a key role in a victory that cheats death
several times, gives half a dozen characters arguably their finest moments, and
then finally moves the Earth. There's a pause before the finale where a
ghostly, undead Kyle Rayner tells Nightwing, "You're doing a hell of a job,
by the way." It's impossible to reach that moment unmoved by the sentiment
behind it.

But it began with the preparation earlier in Kelly's run. After
the JLA had tangled with a Central Asian ruler/magician named Rama Khan, the
story begins in earnest when two powerful opponents representing ancient Mexico
and an unspecified Native American culture materialize at Disneyland and use
their combined magic in an attempt to kill the JLA. They nearly succeed when
Batman awakens from a spell that is supposed to keep any human asleep, and Kyle
Rayner arrives in time to blindside the attackers, who escape where Atlantis
used to be. This begins a mystery in which the JLA begins to search for Aquaman
on the spot where Atlantis has, apparently, disappeared into the past. With Batman
and Kyle expressing strong misgivings, they go 3,000 years into the past, and
then things turn sour.

Kelly divides the story into parallel narration of the past,
in even-numbered issues, and present, in odd-numbered issues. While the Big
Seven plus Plastic Man gradually realize they are in over their heads in 1000
BC, a new replacement team led by Nightwing faces existential threats in the
present, eventually realizing that their problems and the disappearance of the
main JLA are related.

The split narration makes it all a mystery for readers to
unravel, too. We know the JLA is missing before we know they are dead, and we know
they are dead before we know why. The invocation of time travel makes it a
little hard to unravel even at the end, but the flow of events goes like this:

In 1000 BC, a malevolent Atlantean sorceress named Gamemnae
unites forces with Rama Khan, the forerunner of the Central Asian mystic whom the
JLA had encountered in the present. Rama Khan in 1000 BC has visions of a
seven-headed destroyer from the future. This is interpreted as being the JLA,
but will eventually prove to be Gamemnae herself. The two of them gather a team
of rather formidable super-beings from around the world and prepare to lure the
JLA into the past and ambush them. Rama Khan and other members of the team do so
believing that the JLA really is evil. Gamemnae, however, does so to facilitate
her conquest of the Earth and manipulates the rest of the "League of
Ancients" into eliminating the JLA for her.

Aquaman and the citizens of modern day Atlantic travel into
the past as a refuge from the "Our Worlds at War" crisis. Arthur the
first to fall, trusting Gamemnae before he is turned into a disembodied water wraith
trapped in a pool. Then she raises the underwater city back to the surface and
leads the ancient Atlanteans in enslaving the modern-day Atlanteans. Two of the
League of Ancients travel to the present to battle the JLA, which succeeds in
luring them back to their time, and into a very well-prepared trap.

In the past, the JLA covertly investigate Atlantis, trying
to avoid walking into a trap. However, when they think they understand the situation,
they do not, and the League of Ancients has mutilated the Flash in a separate
ambush before the other heroes make their appearance. Behind the scenes,
however, the Native American magician Manitou found out that Batman was
unharmed by a weapon that could not harm a just person, a discovery that begins
to win Manitou over to the JLA side. This is too late, however, for the rest of
the team, who go down hard in the face of Gamemnae's perfect battle plan.
Martian Manhunter is lit afire, Plastic Man shredded, and Superman physically beaten
to death. Kyle Rayner is the only one who wins his matchup, using his ring to
save Atlanteans who seem to be his enemy; this is the act of mercy that
definitively brings Manitou to the JLA side, and in a brilliantly ambiguous
moment, Kyle allows Manitou to rip his heart from his chest as part of a
magical spell that's necessary for the league's resurrection.

With the JLA dead, Gamemnae turns against her allies,
absorbing them into her own body with magic, which gives her the sum of all of
their powers, all but that of Manitou, who hides the spirits of the JLA in Kyle's
heart for three thousand years.

In the present, Gamemnae, now hideously monstrous, absorbs
Tempest and Zatanna before the new JLA shows up in force, and she begins to
pick them off, too. President Lex Luthor nukes the battle site, appearing to
kill the heroes even while Gamemnae is unaffected. And after that bleak point,
everything turns around.

Kyle Rayner, who has survived as a combination ghost / power
ring entity for three thousand years, uses his ring power to save the new JLA,
who put Manitou's plan into action. Nightwing declares, "I don't know jack
about magic, but I do know people. If Gamemnae does have a weakness, it's her
strength. It makes her confident, and will blind her." That observation is the pivot in the
confrontation. Nightwing's people skills, his ability to lead the replacement
JLA, ultimately turns the tide against a villain so powerful that she is
basically a god.

The six dead JLAers bond as ghosts on the spirit plane, with
Batman playing the chess master, directing Manitou to animate them as skeletal
forms that are immune to Gamemnae's magic, and as the undead JLA begin to fight
the witch, Kelly unveils some of his best dialogue…

Gamemnae: What good are a handful of shades against the
force of Earth's gods?!?

Batman: You're about to find out.

[...]

Firestorm (to Manitou): I didn't think it was possible… but you actually
made Batman scarier.

Attacks by the undead Superman and Wonder Woman manipulate
Gamemnae into using her magic to bring the Leaguers back to life, while Batman whispers,
"The chess match has begun. Force the move."

Meanwhile, the replacement Justice League under Nightwing
try to find a way to beat Gamemnae. Jason Blood sacrifices himself in order to liberate
Zatanna from Gamemnae, the Atom makes himself too small for magic to affect
him, and the demon Etrigan and a Kelly creation named Faith lead a delaying
attack before Firestorm uses his matter-transmuting powers to connect the pool
confining Aquaman with the sea, in effect giving him command over the entire
ocean.

At this point, with the teams in the past and present both at
impressive levels of power, they win a double battle against the sorceress,
with Manitou's magic, Aquaman's power, and the resurrected JLA beating her into
submission.

Kelly uses the extremely traumatic events in the story not
as a gimmick to impress the reader but as a means of bringing out the personalities
of the characters. And so, we're not asked to believe in Wally West's nobility
because he is running fast, nor even because he is risking danger. We feel it
when he's being held by his broken neck, legs amputated, at the mercy of a
merciless enemy, and he tells his comrades, trying to save their lives at the
cost of his, "Run. Please. Just run." J'onn's death transforms
Plastic Man's zaniness into fury, driving him to suffocate Rama Khan and yell, "You
like burning?!? How about the burning inside your lungs as they choke for
air?!? LIKE THAT?!?!" Superman tries to reason with the League of Ancients
even as they try to kill him. Firestorm and Zatanna are frustrated by not
knowing how their powers can be used to beat Gamemnae, then figure it out at
the last minute. We see Kyle Rayner grimly whisper, "Be alive, be
alive" before falling silent when he sees that every one of his teammates
is dead.

And it hurts. It hurts Kyle and it hurts us. Seeing the
likes of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash die is a shock, one that
might be a cheap stunt if handled differently. Joe Kelly, yes, brings them back
to life, cancelling out those deaths as he certainly had to do, but he uses the
death-and-resurrection to achieve a grand narrative payoff in the rich
characterization it allows.

Kelly gets it. Death in comics isn't a moment for the writer
to step back, quit writing, and hope the penciller can imitate Michelangelo's Pietà. Death isn't a moment at all. It's
a process, an event, a beginning rather than an ending. Kelly wrote a story
around the JLA's death, but it's neither cheap nor lazy. It's a tangled story
that started setting things up twelve issues before their deaths and kept
unspooling the consequences for several issues longer. It's obvious that he
worked not only smarter but also harder than writers usually do, and the result
was what I consider probably the finest Justice League story ever written.